Day After Day
by Eurgh
Summary: A war looms on the horizon, and life for mutants has never been more dangerous- or more lonely. Without the usual affiliations, how can anyone survive? AU. C
1. Beginnings

**Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men: Evolution, the Marvel comics, or anything that you recognize I suppose.  
Summary: Ever since mutants were exposed, a war had been brewing. Now, as it looms just on the horizon, young mutants must make alliances and try to find a way to survive in the crossfire of hatred and discrimination.  
Note: This is very AU. It begins with the series, but with a few twists. For one, mutants have been exposed for some time. The only students Xavier has recruited thusfar is Scott and Jean, leaving all of our other favorites to their own devices. A lot of this takes from the comics, which you do not have to know to enjoy this story.  
Constructive Criticism is, as always, very much appreciated.**

**Chapter One : Beginnings**

"_Mutant detected_."

An immediate silence fell over the sunny classroom. Those two simple words were perhaps more terrifying than the idea of an enormous robot, loaded with guns and frightening weapons, outside of the school. Was it really a Sentinel's robotic voice booming in the sky?

Why would a Sentinel be in Bayville?

The young students eyed one another curiously, furtively. Who was it? Who could be classified as a mutant, a dreaded mistake of the gene pool? A few frightened teenagers had frozen, their fear inspired more by the unknown mutant than the hulking machine outside their school blaring commands. One of these girls, pale with fear, stared at her shaking hands. Trying to calm herself, she ran a hand through her red hair.

It couldn't be happening.

This was the day Jean Grey had prayed not to come since she was eight years old.

"_Surrender immediately or face immediate capture or destruction_."

This could not be happening to her. She chewed nervously on her lip, glancing at her fellow students. Had they guessed yet? Did they know it was her, trying so desperately to hide behind a veil of red hair and shaking hands? She was tempted to search their minds, to see what they could be thinking.

"Maybe it's not in this class." She heard a girl whisper to her neighbor.

It.

Thing.

She had been downgraded to a thing long ago. The word "it", the word "creature", the word "specimen"- none of them bothered her anymore, none of them hurt her in any way. It was a fact of life. She was less than human.

What if it was after Scott, not her? Scott Summers was the only other mutant _in_ this school, wasn't he? She wanted to jump up and run to him, find him and make sure he was alright. He was more level-headed than she was, he could be calm. He would have a plan, some way to save them and leave them unexposed for what they were.

Mutants.

Dirt in the gene pool.

"_You have thirty seconds to surrender yourself_."

Surrender?

"_Twenty eight… Twenty seven…_"

She couldn't surrender, couldn't simply offer herself to Bolivar Trask and his lackeys. She wondered if the other students could hear her heart pounding, could smell her fear, could tell by looking at her that she was the "it" causing this distraction. She tried to breathe evenly, tried to seem unaffected by the mass of metal outside Bayville High. Why was it here? What had she done to attract it, what had Scott done?

"_Twenty three… Twenty two…_"

She wasn't prepared for this.

"Jean!" She looked up as the door crashed into the wall. Scott stood behind it, motioning for her to come. A few girls shrieked in surprise as the uniformed Wolverine and Storm appeared behind Soctt.

"What's going on?" She asked without thinking, terrified, letting her mouth run away with her.

"No time for that Red. We've got about fifteen seconds to get outta here, and I ain't gonna be around to find out what that thing'll do to capture us." The feral man behind her best friend snarled.

"You mean you're a-" Taryn looked horrified, staring at Jean.

She felt her cheeks flush. As if it were something to be embarrassed about. She wanted to shout at her friend. You liked me before, she would yell, you called me your best friend! Why does a little genetic quirk change anything? Why was she ashamed of what she was, who she was? She had no reason. She tried not to think as she hurried past the students, who recoiled as if she were a contagious monster.

"We have to go." Storm ran briskly down the hall, followed by the other three. "That _thing_ isn't going to stop from harming you because you're children."

"_Ten… Nine…_."

The X-Jet sat calmly on the lawn of the school as if it belonged there, though Jean knew for a fact that it was entirely out of place. A walkway lowered to touch the ground as they reached it. Quickly, the four mutants boarded it.

"_Four… Three…_"

"What happened?" Scott asked as they took off. Jean fumbled with her buckle with still shaking hands. How could this happen? Why would a Sentinel come to their school?

"Somehow, Trask got word that Chuck was runnin' a school for mutants." Logan replied gruffly as he attempted to outrun the metallic beast that had set its sights on their jet. "Guess he wanted to stop him from recruitin' anyone else."

"Where are we going?" Jean asked softly, surprising even herself by how meek her voice sounded. Ororo left the controls to Logan, coming back to lay a comforting hand on the young girl's hand.

"We can't go back to the Institute. By now, Trask's agents will be everywhere." She said softly. Jean was surprised to feel tears spring to her eyes. The school had been her home for nearly nine years, since she first discovered her powers. She didn't like the idea of it being in the hands of someone like Trask.

"We destroyed Cerebro and the Danger Room." Logan announced from the front of the jet, weaving between two missiles launched their way.

"But where can we go then?" Jean asked again, trying to subdue her feelings. It wouldn't help anything to be upset.

"We're meetin' Chuck somewhere and going from there." His voice was strained as he tried to outrun the missiles. Scott was alert. Jean couldn't help but wish she knew better what he was feeling. The Institute was his home, too, almost as long as it had been hers. How could he not be sad that they might never go back? How could he be so calm when they had just narrowly escaped attack and capture by a Sentinel?

"It will be okay." The African woman gently rubs Jean's hand again. "It will turn out right in the end. You'll see."

Somehow, as they sped towards nowhere, Jean couldn't help but doubt the truth in that statement.

… … … … … … … …

"How can this, like, be happening to me?" Katherine Pryde wailed into a tissue as her mother gently rubbed her back. "It's not f-fair!"

"Kitty, you know your father and I won't stop loving you because of something like this." The older woman tried to reassure her hysterical daughter. Something- once again- caught her eye. It was a blue blanket, something Kitty had had as a child, hanging limply from the ceiling. She quickly averted her eyes for her daughter's sake.

"W-Why not?" She moaned. "I'm a freak!"

"You're not a freak!" Her mother replied fiercely. "You are still my beautiful, caring, and wonderful daughter. Nothing can change that, Kitty."

"Dad's gonna flip!" She continued to cry. "Mom, what am I going to do?"

"You're going to be alright, Kitty." Theresa Pryde tried to reassure her once more. "You're strong. I know you'll be okay."

"No, Mom!" She cried even harder. "How can I be okay? Almost everyone I know would rather kill a mutant than spend two freaking seconds in a room with one! How can I even try to be okay?"

Theresa didn't know. She remembered over the last two weeks; inexplicable headaches that no amount of Tylenol could fix, episodes of "sleep-walking" into the living room, complaints of exhaustion and an achy feeling. She wished she had seen the signs better, that she had known her daughter was about to join the most hated and persecuted group in the country.

"Grandpa Sam survived the Holocaust, didn't he?" She tried again. "Being a mutant isn't going to end up in genocide, Kitty. You'll be okay."

"Says who?" Kitty hiccupped. "Don't you watch the news? People are talking about it all the time! They want people like me dead. Or worse, studied in some lab to find a cure!"

"I won't let that happen to my daughter." She pulled her daughter into a fierce embrace.

"And… Dad won't hate me?" She sniffed, the tears momentarily subsiding.

"I promise."

"I should, like, get ready for school." The small brunette girl wiped her eyes in an attempt to quell her fears.

"I don't think you should go today, Kitty." Her mother murmured worriedly. At her daughter's distressed expression, she continued. "You're still incredibly upset, and I really think we should figure out everything about all this before I just let you run around wild. I just want you to be safe."

"I'll be fine." She sniffed irritably. "I… I don't, like, want this to change my life, Mom. I want everything to go on like normal!"

"But things aren't normal, Kitty, and I won't let you get hurt because of it!"

"I'll be fine for _one day_, Mom!" She snapped, but her face softened. "Thanks for caring though."

"Please stay home." She begged her honor's student, the freshmen enrolled in junior level classes. "Please! I'll take you to lunch, we'll rent a movie, we'll research this a little, and then we'll know what to do! For me."

"How could I, like, say no?" Kitty giggled weakly.

… … … … … … … … … …

"Is this… ethical?"

"What do you mean is it "ethical"? She's a mutant." Rob Herts raised an eyebrow at his young colleague. They stood outside the concrete door. Despite his bravado, Rob was slightly frightened of what lurked behind the door.

He had heard stories; no one that worked there longer than a month hadn't. Stories of an angry girl with uncontrollable mutant powers, blasting men into the wall, melting steel doors with a flick of her fingers, shattering all the lights and windows in one hallway with a wave of her arm. She nearly killed the old security guard, Billie, shrieking something about never letting anyone near her again while he oozed blood on her floor. He had heard she destroyed the lab when they were trying to take her blood, injuring four nurses and a doctor. Apparently, she could even manipulate the simplest things- like water- to turn on someone if he weren't careful.

Wanda Maximoff was a creature to be careful with.

"So's her dad, and he's the one that stuck her in here." The younger man- Grant, wasn't it?- pointed out. "I just don't know if I feel all that good about transferring her."

"What? You too afraid to move her?" Rob snorted, despite his own fears.

"That's not it." Grant frowned.

Rob doubted it. At night, sometimes she could be heard through the entire asylum. Moaning, screaming, crying. Different every time. Some nights, she wept for "pie", whatever the hell that meant. Others, she raged and shrieked against her father, cursing him to hell and back. Sometimes she just cursed. She had nearly killed a dozen different workers. Some people say some of them were an accident, which only made her move more logical.

Why would he want to work around something so dangerous it might _accidentally_ kill him if its hands got free?

"Ready, Grant?"

"Not really. I still have some reservations."

"Shove 'em up your ass." Rob grunted as the door creaked open. He was surprised, as always, by the raven haired, crumpled mass on the ground. Her blue eyes were sunken in, and underlined with dark circles. She was pale and thin, a teenager by this point. She stared at them with disinterest as they walked in, eyeing her straight jacket to make sure it was properly in place.

"Bill, Fred, make sure she doesn't get her hands free." Rob instructed as he and Grant gently lifted her to her feet. He hated trying to deal with this one.

"Come to set me free?" Her raspy voice made the less experienced Grant jump.

"Sure." Bill snickered.

"Bastards." She snarled under her breath, lightly. Rob could feel a migraine coming on. Life would be easier when they were rid of her.

"Sure thing, darling." Fred laughed. "Now, keep that pretty little mouth shut and this'll be over and done with."

Something he said must have upset her.

She twisted suddenly, fighting them for every step they took.

"Let me go!"

"Watch and make sure her hands don't get free!"

Her struggling became more violent. Her hair, dark as night, hung in her face. Grant hid a shudder. She looked so damn frightening. If she had been a normal person on the streets, he would wonder what terrible things had made someone so angry.

"I swear to God, if you don't let me free, I'll-"

"I said watch her fucking hands!"

"I'm trying, damn it, she's strong!"

All four men leapt back as the straight jacket was flung off by an angry young woman. She turned, staring at them, daring them to try to stop her from leaving. Fred, a muscular man of about forty, leapt at her and she stopped him with a raised hand. He stood still, encased in blue light. With a cruel smirk, she flung him casually into the wall. A sickening crack filled the room as he connected with it, and slid to the floor.

Someone gasped. The room was in a panic; men too afraid to face her themselves ran for help, for someone to give her a sedative, anything. With a raised brow, she let them go. It was unlikely that she would be stopped from escape this time anyway.

With a casual flick of her hand, the lights exploded. Glass fell down to the ground, sharp little projectiles. Grant could have sworn he heard the slightest chuckle as the metal doors slid down to lock her in with them. She looked over the three remaining transport men, gaze softening somewhat as she looked at Grant.

"If I were you," She mused in her raspy and angry voice, "I would quit as soon as possible."

With those words, she stepped up to a metal door and placed a hand in front of it. It melted away, as if it were nothing, and she walked out of the pandemonium of the room without a second glance.

"Shit, Fred, are you okay?" Bill was bent over his friend, whose neck was bent at a funny angle.

"Karma." Grant shook his head.

"What?" Rob raised an eyebrow.

"She definitely got us back, didn't she?"

"Shut the fuck up."

… … … … … … … … … … …

Rhane Sinclair could deal with a lot of things. Reverend Craig's beatings, for example, were hardly bothersome to her at this point. Especially considering she healed so fast. She could easily fend for herself when necessary. Outrunning an angry mob, however, was not something she could do forever.

But she could try.

He led them. The man that tried to take her in from an early age, brought her to religion, called himself her adoptive father. He led this mob to destroy the demon. Burn her at the stake, he cried, burn the witch!

Witch?

She was _not_ a witch.

Mutants, however, were as good as witches and demons in his book.

Her legs were beginning to ache. She glanced over her shoulder once more, and groaned. They were gaining ground. Soon enough, they would have her. Where could she hide, until they passed? Where could she find a little rest, a moment's peace?

_This would be much easier as a wolf_.

She ignored the thought. The "ability" to turn into a wolf at will was not exactly something she was proud of. It reminded her of the terrifying werewolf stories the reverend told her as a child, to remind her to always follow God and his word.

_God, where are you now? What sin have I committed that I should be burned at the stake_?

"Burn the witch!"

The mob was close enough to hear.

Was she going to die?

Fear gripped her heart as she tried desperately to escape the anger of the people, the rage and hatred of the reverend she had tried so hard to love. What had she done to deserve this? When had she become a demon, a monster? She hadn't meant it, whatever caused all this!

"You can't run anymore, demon!" The reverend's voice inspired another burst of energy from her tired feet.

_No_, she thought, _but I can try_.

People began to encircle her, to catch her.

What use were her young, short legs against the adults of her village?

"You have brought our village into sin for far too long, demon!" Reverend Craig's voice boomed. "All of the occurrences we once blamed on nature- such as stolen or missing chickens, disappearing children- can now be blamed on one creature."

"I didn't do anything!" Rhane cried out, even as she was dragged back to the small village. "Nothing!"

"Your lies will not save you."

"Father, please, you raised me!" She tried again. Her pleas fell on deaf ears.

Her heart rate increased tenfold when she saw the stake. Were they honestly going to burn her at the stake, like a heretic a thousand years ago? All for a few different genes?

"You know I'm not a demon!" She tried desperately to connect with the townspeople, having realized her adopted father was useless. "Every one of you has heard of a mutant! It's just a genetic difference, it's nothing!"

"God has cursed you with this affliction because He knew you would succumb to Satan!" The reverend snarled.

She was tied to the stake, frightened, sobbing like a child.

"Please! I did nothing wrong!"

Someone brought forward a torch.

"I did nothing!"

She briefly wondered if the tears would evaporate as she burned. She didn't know how much it would hurt to die. Would it be a slow, miserable roasting? Would she soon enough pass out because of the smoke, die of suffocation (which was far better)?

If God cared at all about her plight, it would be over and done with quickly.

"Vhat makes this child a demon?" A strongly accented voice demanded. She stared around for the single voice of reason, desperate to find it. The flames licked the outside of the straw at her feet working slowly to end her life.

"She transforms to a wolf, like a true child of Satan!" Some farmer she once knew saw fit to inform him.

"I'm not a demon." She sobbed quietly.

"I doubt zhat the Almighty Lord vould agree vith the acts done in his name." The voice replied softly. She saw an unfamiliar cloaked figure on the edge of the circle of people. "I believe you should set her free. God vould see you as true Christians."

"What do you know of God, more than I?" The reverend laughed heartily.

"Set her free, or I vill do it myself!"

Guffaws met his request. Flames licked her feet, burning them. She tried to jerk away, shrieking in pain and fear. A few claps came from the onlookers.

BAMPH!

The cloaked figure appeared above her on the tall stake, and reached down to touch her shoulder.

It had three long, blue fingers.

They disappeared in a puff of blue smoke.

When she touched the soft ground of a nearby forest, she wept in relief. She was _alive_! She stared in wonder at her savior, whom had landed easily on his feet. He didn't say anything for a moment, but seemed to be watching her.

"Thank you." She finally said softly, staring at him in wonder. "Why… Why did you save me?"

"Ve mutants have to stick together, _ja_?" He removed the hood of his cloak and smiled at her. His fangs pointed in the light, and a light blue fur covered his skin. He had pointed ears and long hair.

"Yes." She agreed. If this was what a demon looked like, she welcomed him over any God in the world. "How did you know?"

"I vas traveling ze area, and heard your cries." He replied. "How old are you?"

"Thirteen." She replied softly. "What about you?"

"Sixteen." He grinned. "I guess ve are on our own now. It vill be nice to have a companion, if you vould like to come vith me."

"Where are we going?" She asked. The thought of refusing never crossed her mind.

"As far avay from zis place as ve can get." He said cheerfully.

As far away as possible? That sounded like a plan.

… … … … … … … … … … …

"I cannot thank you enough, Vivian." Ororo smiled warmly at her sister.

"I couldn't leave you on your own in your time of need, Ororo." Her sister smiled warmly as she led the other mutants into the house. "There are two guest rooms, and I'm sure Evan will share with… I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."

"Scott." He nodded. "This is Jean."

"It's nice to meet you." She smiled.

"You too." Jean sighed tiredly. She liked Vivian Daniels well enough; why wouldn't she like a kind woman that didn't dislike mutants?

"I assure you, this is merely temporary." Xavier wheeled into the house. "While I prepare to find living arrangements. Your generosity is truly appreciated."

"What did you expect me to do when Ororo called?" The kind woman grinned. "Turn you out on the streets? No. It's fine, my husband and son don't mind at all."

"Auntie O!" A tall, black teen jumped up the steps past Logan, a skateboard under his arm. His hair was bleached. Jean and Scott exchanged a glance, unsure of what to think of him.

"Hello Evan!" She enveloped him in a hug, which he returned.

"So…" He paused, looking the two teenagers over. "Who's the stiff?"

"Scott." Jean snickered.

"I'll have to loosen you up while you're here." He laughed. "I'm Evan."

"Jean."

"So people can _be_ mutants when they're our age?" Evan asked.

"Well… Yeah." Jean shrugged. "I got my powers when I was eight years old. Scott was nine. It's a pretty common occurrence, especially with a physical mutation."

"Did people know? At your old school?"

"Not until the Sentinel came and tried to round us up." Scott frowned. "Up until then, people believed I had an eye condition. Jean doesn't seem like the stereotypical "freak", so we weren't exactly suspected."

"Evan, be more polite!" Vivian swatted the back of his head. "You wouldn't like it if people asked if people noticed that you were black!"

"But they obviously do!" Evan remained undeterred.

"It's fine." Jean smiled. "It's nice to be asked something without it leading to an insult."

"People can be vicious, man." Evan frowned. "Still, as bad as it sounds, I'm really glad I don't have to put up with _that_ kind of prejudice. I can't imagine a giant robot coming to my school to capture me."

"Be glad." Scott grinned ruefully. "It's not fun to be interrupted in class by adults in spandex."

"I think the other kids took it fine." Logan waved dismissively.

"I'm sure you do." Ororo rolled her eyes.

"So… What can you do?" Evan looked genuinely curious. Jean grinned, and pulled the skateboard out from his arm with her mind. His eyes widened. "Wicked!"

'It is.' She whispered in his mind. He jumped, and laughed.

"Man, that's awesome! What about you, Stiff?"

"I shoot optic beams out of my eyes." Scott raised an eyebrow. "I get the feeling you wouldn't want me to demonstrate that in your house."

"Nah, probably not." Evan laughed. "Mom would have a fit."

"Evan!" His mother glared at him.

"Hey, so would Auntie O!"

"I doubt that Ms. Monroe would freak out for something like that." Jean laughed. "She took it pretty well when I accidentally pushed her off the roof."

"It was only a simulation." Ororo smiled gently. "And I can fly. No harm done."

"That's enough, Evan." Vivian interrupted her son's next question. "Why don't you show Scott your room and take Jean to one of the guest rooms?"

"Alright." Evan shrugged. "Come on upstairs."

They followed the other teen, who was cheerfully chattering on about skateboarding. He showed Jean her room first. It was a nice room with two twin beds (luckily; she got the feeling Ororo would be sharing it with her), and pretty flowery wallpaper.

Scott was lucky enough to get a cot (until better arrangements could be made, as Vivian insisted, no matter how many times he assured her that he didn't mind at all) in Evan's room.

As the teens got better acquainted, the adults turned to more serious discussion downstairs.

"What does it mean, Charles?" Ororo asked softly as they drank coffee in the kitchen. Vivian was included in the conversation, despite her status as a human. "Most pressingly, how did Trask discover the school?"

"I am sure he knew of it for some time." Xavier frowned. "It is an unsettling thought. Even more unsettling, however, is the amount of readings I was getting on Cerebro before we had to destroy it. New, young mutants are appearing all over the country. We cannot protect them."

"Or ourselves." Logan added morbidly, leaning against the wall. "Why'd Trask send that thing after the kids and not us, Chuck? It doesn't make sense. He must have known we'd try to save them."

"I don't know, Logan." The telepath sighed softly. "Perhaps he hoped to catch us off-guard. Perhaps he wanted access to the mansion. We cannot be sure."

"Where will we go after this?" Ororo asked softly. "Where _can_ we go? Another Institute will meet the same fate. I don't trust any of the Hellfire Club as far as I could throw them. Magneto is obviously out of the question. So… Where?"

"We will figure something out." Xavier promised.

"We better." Logan snorted. "Or we're screwed."

"If I were you, I would be more concerned about why they attacked you." Vivian said softly. "You can stay here as long as you like. Those robots are only supposed to attack when a mutant is trying to kill humans, and needs to be stopped. What does it mean if they're attacking for no reason?"

"It means," Xavier sighed softly, "that we will soon be faced with a war."

* * *


	2. Revelations

**Hello again. This is probably the fastest update... ever. I already had it written.  
Note: This is still very AU. Pietro joined the Brotherhood early on, Rogue always knew... It draws some from the comics and some from my imagination.**

**Chapter Two : Revelations**

Todd Tolensky had been excited to move into a house for the Brotherhood of Mutants. He was expecting tough guys, maybe jerks, but people he could eventually be close to. He expected to get strong, and meet people with cool powers. Hell, he even expected it to kinda suck. He didn't expect there to be a pretty, but angry, girl from Mississippi with auburn hair and white bangs.

Or that she would practically rule the house.

It made sense, in a twisted way. He didn't exactly know her story or her power. She kept mostly to herself, when she wasn't bossing them around. She called both Mystique and Destiny "Mama", which of course led to many lesbian jokes between Freddy, Pietro, and him.

He liked the other boys pretty well. Freddy was a huge mass of person, unmovable. He was nice, didn't treat the little froggy mutant like scum. Pietro was a narcissist, which didn't bother Todd too much. Like it mattered that the guy had an ego the size of Texas when he actually had brothers for once in his life.

The Rogue, however, still confused him. While she kept to herself often, she was intimidating when mad. Pietro liked to insist that she was on "constant PMS". This generally led to lots of yelling and shattered plates (and, occasionally, a woozy Pietro).

He remembered asking her what her power was.

"If yer lucky, sugah," she had laughed, "ya won't ever have to find out."

He still wondered what that meant.

He had been there for about two weeks, adjusting pretty well to this life. It wasn't all that different from his old life. He was mostly left to his own devices. He didn't have that many restrictions as long as he didn't do something dumb enough to get him arrested. There was one major difference; the use of powers around the house. As he used them more and more, he grew in better control of them.

He was glad his appearance at least gave way to some pretty cool stuff.

Freddy had been there for about three months, apparently. Pietro had joined the "cause" (whatever it was) about two years ago. This was apparent in the way both women of the house treated everyone.

"Heya Roguey!" Pietro chirped cheerfully as the Southern girl stormed into the house, slamming the door so hard it cracked down the middle. "Woah! Pissed off?"

"Where's Mystique?" She snarled, green eyes narrowed in fury. "Ah'm not in the goddamn mood, Pietro."

Pietro glanced at Todd. If The Rogue had called her mother by her name, chances were she had good reason to be angry with the blue woman.

"She's in the kitchen." Pietro finally mumbled. Without another word to them, she practically flew (Todd could have sworn her feet lifted from the floor) to the kitchen.

"How could ya?" The younger girl's voice was loud and angry. A moment later, there was a crash as a dish shattered on the wall. "How could ya do this to me, or to her? Why?"

"I only did what was best for you, Rogue!"

"Best for me?" The Southern girl snarled. Todd couldn't help but peek around the corner. The Rogue had tears on her face, but she looked furious. Mystique looked angry as well. "Since when do ya know what's fuckin' best for me, Mama?"

"I am your mother, so I do know what's best!" The blue woman snarled.

"Best for me is to use me then." Rogue grabbed a plate and hurled it at her mother, who dodged it easily. "Damn it, Ah didn' even wanna do that! It was Carol! Look what ya did, damn it!"

"Drama!" Pietro leaned over him. Todd didn't try to guess when he had decided to peer into the fight, too.

"What I did was rid us of an enemy and give you new abilities!" Mystique shouted. "I had your best interests in mind! Think of how much these powers will help you!"

"My best interests?" Her voice rose. "Ya made me absorb her! She's dead, and stuck inside me… But, of course, as long as we benefit, it doesn' matter all that much to ya!"

"Rogue, this is one incident! Don't do something rash!"

"One incident?" The goth girl looked livid. "Ya made me absorb her for your own selfish reasons! Hell, Ah'm more of a weapon to ya than a daughter!"

"That's not true!"

"Not true?" She looked livid, her fists clenched tight. "Ya've been trainin' me since Ah could walk to fight, to fire a gun, to do things _no_ normal girl would ever do!"

"You were never a normal girl, Rogue!" Mystique snapped.

"Ah know." The southern girl snapped. "Ah've been aware of that fact since Ah was five years old. Ya never did tell me why Ah had to cover up like that. Of course, ya let me find out by sendin' Cody into a coma!"

"Rogue, please, be sensible!"

"Sensible? Ya want be to be sensible?" Her voice seemed to change. "Were you being sensible when you made her absorb me? I guess you would think so!"

"You know," Pietro commentated softly, "I like Rogue better than the Blue Bitch. Maybe she'll win the fight and become new leader!"

"Like she's gonna take out her own mom, yo." Todd rolled his eyes.

"Rogue!" Mystique cried out as her daughter doubled over, hands on her head.

"Don't touch me!" She jerked back when her mother moved to rub her back. "Ya did this to me, don't try to comfort me!"

"I…" Mystique's hand hovered over her for a moment before she closed it into a tight fist and pulled it back. Without another word, she left the kitchen. "Enjoying the show boys?"

"Yep." Pietro grinned, unabashed despite being caught. Todd had the decency to blush. She gave them a look that clearly told them how disgusted they made her, and stormed up to her bedroom.

"So, Roguey, how you doing?" Pietro zipped to her side.

"Shut your mouth, you speedy little freak!" A Bostonian accent surprised him. "I am trying to deal with something here!"

"Uh… Okay…" Pietro sat in silence with Todd for a moment.

"Ah gotta get outta here." She groaned.

"Aw, Roguey, you're gonna leave just 'cause Mystie annoyed you a little?" Pietro chastised her. "How silly!"

"Pietro, ya need to shut your mouth." She snapped. "That's the one thing Carol's right about."

"You're pretty much the bitchiest person I've ever met." Pietro crossed his arms.

"Yeah, well," Rogue glared at him. "that's what Ah was going for."

"So… You're leavin'?" Todd was surprised. "Just like that, yo?"

"Don' worry, sugah," Rogue crossed her arms, "she'll have a replacement for me soon. Just ya watch."

"You're her daughter." Pietro scoffed.

"And ya know yer father would dump replace ya if ya left." She snorted. With that, she walked up the stairs to grab her stuff.

"Do you think she's serious, yo?" Todd stared after her.

"If she leaves, she'll be back." Pietro shrugged. "She's Rogue. She's not gonna leave, just like that, because she's pissed off. She loves Mystique and Destiny, even if none of us can understand why. And I'm irresistible."

After a few awkward moments, she reappeared at the top of the stairs with a duffel bag in tow.

"You can't be serious." Pietro snorted. "You won't make it all that far, Rogue. Even if you try, Mystique will find you. Besides, it's not like she ruined your life."

"She might have. Ah don' know yet." She snapped. "And Ah'm one hundred percent serious."

"Suit yourself." Pietro shrugged nonchalantly.

She waved good bye to them as she stepped outside the door. Without glancing back once, she walked down past the driveway. Todd didn't watch her go. Neither did Pietro. If they had, they might have noticed her take to the air and disappear in the sky.

… … … … … … … … … … … …

Lance Alvers couldn't help a small frown.

Where_ was_ she?

She, of course, being Katherine Pryde (even though she kind of sort of didn't know he existed). The pretty little freshman with dark brown hair and shining blue eyes. It was pathetic, and he knew it. "It" being his little obsession with the girl known best as Kitty.

It was the most ridiculous thing. He was a rebel, a dangerous guy, a mutant. She was… Well, she was none of those things. She was a beautiful, straight A, honor's student. She was _normal_, a pretty little human girl. She was innocent and the most dangerous thing about her were those captivating blue eyes.

He shouldn't have ever noticed her.

He saw her for the first time when she was being picked on by some girls from one of her classes. From the gist of the conversation, they thought it was weird that a girl so much younger than them was so smart. He had nearly laughed at the thought of a freshman kicking a junior's ass at Calculus, before he caught sight of her.

She had been so beautiful.

Over time (this had been months ago), he had learned a lot about her.

Her name was Katherine, but she went by Kitty. She was enrolled in nearly all advanced classes, excluding P.E. and some Shakespeare class she had to take to get a Humanities credit. Her locker was about five down from his, which helped him watch her better. She seemed to be a shy girl and somewhat naïve; he had watched at least four different guys hit on her and have her obliviously turn them down simply by not realizing what they meant.

She didn't have that many friends, he had observed. She kept to herself, despite her valley girl lilt and obvious longing for a better social life. He had guessed she just didn't know anyone her age to _be_ her friend.

He wanted to be her friend.

He was gutless, like his foster dad liked to remind him. He wasn't brave enough to approach her, to offer friendship and companionship (and, maybe later, something more).

He ran a hand through his hair. The fact that he even _noticed_ that she wasn't there was pathetic. She didn't even know his name.

He frowned, trying to make himself move towards his class. He was… worried. Pathetic as it was, he knew she never missed school. Something was _wrong_ to make that girl stay home.

Damn it.

Why did he even give a rat's ass?

With a shake of his head to clear his mind, he forced his feet to carry him to his next class. His mind, however, was still stuck on a pretty brunette with blue eyes.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

"Where is she?"

"Don't sound so angry." Eric Lensherr calmly examined the muscular Russian's home. "I did exactly as you would want."

"I want to see her, and know she is safe!" He snarled.

"Illyana is receiving medical treatment." The grey-haired man looked at him. Piotr's expression softened. "In exchange, I would require some… service of you."

"Of course." He sighed softly. "There is always a catch. Return my sister, Mr. Lensherr."

"Ah, well, there is a slight problem with that request." Eric grinned calmly at the other man. "You see, I can provide her medical care. Perhaps I can even return the young girl when you have completed your duties to me. But, at the moment, she is safe and sound somewhere in America. I am afraid that I couldn't advocate simply setting her free, to wander around all by herself?" The Russian's fists clenched tight. "Mr. Rasputin, you do realize she is only eight years old?"

"What do I have to do?" The other man grit out.

… … … … … … … … … … … …

"Where is it?"

"It escaped earlier this morning. So far, we've been unsuccessful in recapturing it."

Her green eyes narrowed as they walked by. She shifted, just barely shaking the tree limb she was precariously perched on. She didn't know these men. She did not recognize their scents or voices.

This, of course, meant nothing to her.

She swung down and landed on her feet with a soft thud. It was barely noticeable, just enough to make one man turn around.

"What the-"

SNIKT!

She watched idly as his body bled on the ground. The other man took off running. Easily, quickly, she caught him and pinned him against the tree.

"Don't do this!" He cried out, frightened by the calm girl in front of him. "I'm only following orders!"

There was a dull noise as his head hit the ground.

"So am I."

Sniffing the air, she tried to listen for any more noise. Who else was coming for her, to take her back?

She was not going back.

With an almost imperceptible movement, she had her claws to the neck of an agent attempting to sneak up on her. His eyes widened; she recognized this one. He trained her, tortured her, watched her turn into the weapon she was meant to be.

She never thought to wonder if he was proud of his training as her claws ripped through his abdomen.

Moving forward. That was what she was attempting to do. Move on from this place, from these people, from this life. She didn't know the words for it, or what emotion was bubbling in her chest.

There was a division in the world, between predator and prey. The weak and the strong. One always fit into both categories. The trick was to make everyone else think you were only strong and nothing more. It wasn't difficult, particularly with her training and abilities. She knew better than to show anything but indifference towards the prey, the weak, the low. She knew also that the same must be shown to those stronger, those predators out to get her, those lifted high.

After all, eventually you might be the strong once more.

Dr. Deborah Risman was running from her. She knew it, she could feel it. Something she rarely felt flashed through her. She _wanted_. She _wanted_ to make the older woman hurt, the older woman fear, the older woman beg. She wanted to see her grovel for mercy and then watch the life drain from her eyes.

She caught the scent, and followed. Weapon-like training came into play once more; be silent, be deadly, be swift. Do not dawdle, do not speak, do not show any emotion. End it quickly and quietly. Do not listen to pleas and begging; simply remember that you are strong and they are weak.

It was easy to catch up with her.

"Laura." The woman smiled faintly. "Laura, Laura."

The weapon known as X-23 remained silent, watching her creator and surrogate mother without emotion.

"I know what you're here for." The woman continued. X-23 felt conflicted suddenly. Emotions were new, unusual things. An overwhelming warmth fought with a bitter darkness within her. "I don't blame you. I've made many mistakes in my life."

The young girl said nothing. It seemed as if the doctor didn't want her to.

"It only seems fair that one of them should end it, doesn't it?"

She didn't speak another word. X-23 stared at her claws, buried deep in the woman's chest. She didn't know what she was feeling. It was a strange thing. A wave of something threatening to overtake her.

She jerked her hands free and watched Deborah Risman's body fall to the ground.

There was only one thing left. Only one goal, one thing to continue to make her move and survive. Her eyes narrowed as she left the body alone in the forest.

Wolverine.

… … … … … … … … … … … … …

"Ah think we should tell 'em."

The two men had been working side by side in silence. Now, the older man glanced at his son.

"What're ya talkin' about?"

"Tellin' Ma and the kids." The lanky teen shrugged, brushing some of his longer blonde hair from his face. "We've been keepin' it from them for a long time. Ah just think… Maybe it's time."

"Sam Guthrie, why would ya wanna do that?" His father brushed the dirt off his pants. The two turned and started walking back towards the farmhouse. "Isn't it enough that Ah worry about ya all the damn time? If yer mother and the kids find out, no one but ya will get any sleep in our house."

"Ah don't want to worry them." Sam nodded. "But it's because it's gettin' so bad for people like me. Ah don't want them to worry if somethin'… does happen."

"Nothing's gonna happen to ya, Sam." The older Guthrie rolled his eyes.

"Ah watch the news." Sam replied softly, trying to disguise his fear. "Ah know there are people that want anyone like me dead. Ah know there's organizations that capture and experiment on us. Ah know there's legislation that could cause all kinds of problems. Ah don't want them to find out Ah'm hiding something from them after somethin' happens."

"Yer mother's gonna kill me for keepin' it from her." His dad shook his head in a pathetic attempt to break the slight tension the younger man's words brought.

"Y'all got done fast." Paige pointed out with a grin.

"Yeah. Well, we figured Ah had somethin' to tell y'all." Sam grinned weakly.

As Paige ran to get the rest of his enormous family, he tried to calm his nerves. Why should he be nervous? His father had completely accepted him from day one. He had been there when Sam's powers manifested. As he had sat up in the newly created hole, stunned and relatively unhurt, his father had said something along the lines of "what do you know" and helped him to his feet.

He didn't _want_ to be nervous. He had hated hiding something like this from his family for three years. He was only sixteen years old. He didn't want to worry about things like experimentation or legislature in the government while other kids were worried about biology tests. He didn't want to lie to most of his family, hide a huge a part of him because it might worry them.

Or make them hate him.

He chewed on his lip nervously. His father didn't care, he reminded himself. His dad had actually considered this whole mutant thing to be damn useful when he got the crazy idea to plant apple trees all over the place. Sam's powers came in handy for making holes.

"Sam, are ya gonna come in here and tell us whatever's so important?" His younger brother Jay called from the living room.

"Here goes nothing." He whispered softly to himself before walking into the living room. His family- all six thousand of them- were sitting expectantly. He tried to swallow, and found he couldn't.

"Or just sit there. Whatever." Paige laughed.

"Well…" Sam exchanged a nervous glance with his father. "Uh… Ah figured somethin' out a couple years ago."

His family looked rather unexcited, considering the news he was about to give them.

"Ah'm a mutant." He mumbled quickly, almost praying they wouldn't understand. "Ah didn't tell y'all 'cause Ah didn't want anyone to worry. But Ah figured with all the stuff goin' on about mutants, y'all deserved to know."

And there was the stunned silence. He squeezed his eyes shut, unsure of what he was expecting. Anger? Fear? Hatred? Acceptance?

"Okay." Paige shrugged. "Can Ah finish eatin' my cereal now?"

That was it?

"Yeah. Ah was beatin' Jeb in poker." Jay frowned.

"Y'all don't care?" He was stunned.

"Well, it's kinda cool, but Ah was eatin'. Can ya show me yer power later?" Paige looked somewhat excited. "Ah bet it's lame."

"Nah!" Sam laughed, relieved. "How do ya think we planted all those apple trees in one day, huh?"

"Ya helped with that?" His mother looked upset. "How long have ya been hidin' this from us?"

"Three year." He mumbled. "Pa thought it might make y'all worry over nothing."

"He knew, and Ah didn't?" She looked furious.

"Ah have homework to do." Sam's eyes widened at her anger. He dashed out of the room quickly, glad to be in his room. It was somewhat anti-climactic. They were fine with it. He was relieved. Somehow, he had expected it to be a huge deal.

He was the luckiest guy in the world.

The rest of the day passed with next to no awkwardness. Granted, his mother was not exactly on speaking terms with his father (which made dinner slightly difficult). But, for the most part, his little confession had done nothing to change his family.

He shifted under the blanket, trying to find a more comfortable position in his bed.

"Sammy?"

Groggily, he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Paige?"

The young blonde stepped into his room, shutting the door behind her.

"What's wrong?" Sam mumbled, trying to wake himself up.

"Are ya going to be okay?" She asked softly, crawling onto the bed next to him.

"What do ya mean?" He laughed. "Ah'm fine, Paigers."

"No." She shook her head in the dark. "Ah mean… Will ya be alright later? Ya'll never be captured and hurt, right?"

He sat in contemplative silence for a short while. He couldn't promise anything. He could only try to reassure her that he would do his best to protect himself. Paige was fourteen years old; she wasn't going to believe any lies. She obviously knew (as did he) how bad it was getting for mutants out in the world.

"Ah don't know, Paige." He finally murmured in the dark. "Ah'm scared, too, sometimes. Ah don't know what's gonna happen to me. Ah don't know what Ah'm gonna end up doin' one day about all this."

"But… Yer the oldest." She whispered. He could tell she was trying not to cry. "Nothin' bad can happen to ya."

"If somethin' does," He told her softly, "Ah need ya to take care of everyone."

"Nothing will, though." She sighed. "Right?"

"As far as Ah know, yer completely right." He nodded. "Go to bed, Paigers. Ya shouldn't be worryin' about me."

As she left quietly, he tried to turn over and return to that place before sleep.

He failed.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … …


	3. Connections

**Sorry for the very long time without an update... To be honest, I had no idea where the story was going. Now, however, I have a pretty good idea. Please, review and critique me. I'm fairly proud of this chapter.**

**Chapter Three : Connections**

One word ran through his mind as he tore around the corner.

Shit.

When the loud smack of feet against concrete only got closer behind him, that one word changed to a string of expletives.

_Merde, _shit, fuck!

With a harsh smack, he slammed straight into the back of a brunette with a duffel bag slung casually over her shoulder.

CRACK!

Remy LeBeau hit the ground. He groaned as he tried to sit up. Why did it feel more like he had run into a brick wall than a girl?

"Are ya okay?" A beautiful girl swam into his vision. Her green eyes seemed concerned. He blinked, trying to make her stop spinning in front of him. Her face was framed by curled white bangs. Her hair was a pretty auburn, falling in curls to her shoulder. "Ya didn't break anythin', did ya?"

"If Remy says _oui_, will y' give 'im a kiss an' make it better?" He grinned charmingly, unable to pass up the opportunity to charm a girl even when being pursued. To his surprise, she rolled her eyes.

"Yer obviously fine." She wrinkled her nose. He paused, momentarily forgetting what exactly he was running from. He stood up and casually brushed himself off, as if he ran into uncannily sturdy girls all the time.

"What's a _belle femme_ like y'rself doin' all alone in de middle o' N'Awlins? Dat's not very safe." He grinned at her again. "Remy'd be glad t' accompany y' t' wherever y're goin'."

"Uh-huh." She was obviously unimpressed with his act of chivalry. Before he could say another word, Julien and a few other Assassins tore around the corner.

"LeBeau!" Julien snarled. "Dis y're new _femme_ t' cheat on _ma soeur_ wit'?"

"_Non_, Julien, Remy don' cheat." The Cajun grinned cheekily, eyeing the man's gun.

"Ah don't know who the hell ya are, but ya better not point that damn gun at me." The girl put a hand on her hip and glared at the Assassin. "Ah'm not with him, he just ran into me."

Julien snorted, obviously disbelieving her. She raised an eyebrow, almost daring him to shoot her. Remy's eyes widened; he knew the assassin would not hesitate. Perhaps it was his strange chivalrous mood, or maybe just the fact that he knew it would piss Julien off more than almost anything he could do, but he grabbed the girl's hand in his own and began to back away.

"Y're pretty cocky for a li'l _femme_ wit' LeBeau." Julien's eyes followed them, narrowing at their entwined fingers. His watchful eyes missed the alarmed (and slightly angry look) on the girl's face.

"Who the hell is LeBeau?"

"_Moi._ An' don' worry,Remy knows y' ain't 'wit' him', _chere_." The Cajun rolled his eyes. With a heavy sigh, he gave up on just backing away and took off in a sprint. She tugged along behind him for a moment, but surprisingly kept up.

"What the- Cajun! What're ya doin?" She snarled as he dragged her along (and her somewhat full bag). Somehow, he got the feeling she could easily break away from him and didn't for some unknown reason (that likely had nothing to do with his charm).

"Tryin' t' stop y' from gettin' shot. Now dat y've been seen wit' Remy, y'll be a target for awhile." He explained as they ran through alleys and ducked around corners in an attempt to lose the Assassins tailing them.

"Great. Because _ya_ ran into _me_, Ah'm gonna be tailed by people with guns?" She snapped as they ran.

"_Ouais_."

They ran through the streets, cutting through alleys and corners. As they flung themselves around one particular corner, Remy lost his balance. He managed to catch himself- but at the price of his glasses falling from his face. The girl beside him caught them in her left hand without a moment's pause, but stopped when she realized he wasn't moving. She peered at his face, and her eyes widened.

"Woah."

"_Donne-moi_." He held out his hand, studiously avoiding her gaze. She continued to stare at his eyes, as if mesmerized momentarily.

"Yer a mutant."

"_Oui_." He saw no use in denying it. She would have easily figured it out.

"Ah wish Ah'd have known that." She rolled her eyes. "Come on, where are we goin'?"

With that, she lifted off the ground and grabbed him under the arm pits. He tried to ignore the shock of being pulled into the air by what he had thought was a damsel-in-distress, and concentrated on breathing.

"Over dere." He pointed to a mansion in the bayou. She flew that direction.

Once they landed on the grounds, he stared at her.

"Y're a mutant?"

"Nah, yer hallucinatin'." She rolled her eyes. "Ah'm just a figment of yer imagination."

"_Non_." He huffed. "Remy's imagination be much nicer t' him. Y're cranky."

"Uh-huh." She crossed her arms, lifting slightly off the ground again.

"Y' actually gonna leave when Julien an' de ot'ers lookin' for y'?" He raised an eyebrow. "Remy already figured out dat y're _fou_, _mais_ he didn' know y' were suicidal _aussi_."

"Well, ain't ya a funny little Swamp Rat?" She rolled her eyes. "Ah'm not afraid of them. They can't hurt me."

"Sure." He crossed his arms.

"Why am Ah still talkin' to ya? Ah shouldn't have even given ya a lift home."

"But y' did." He grinned.

"Ah'm regrettin' it." She replied.

"Remy!" Remy turned to see Henri running out towards him, followed by Emil and _Tante_ Mattie. "We heard dat Julien's lookin' f'r y'."

"He is." He wrinkled his nose. "But Remy was saved by a _tres belle femme_."

"Ah am seriously regrettin' that decision."

"Introduce us, Rem." Emil rolled his eyes.

"_Ma famille_, dis is…" He trailed off. "Remy don' even know y'r name!"

"It's Rogue." She frowned.

"Dis is Rogue. Rogue, dis is _ma famille_."

"Y' saved Remy from Julien?" Emil snorted. "Jeeze, I knew y' were dumb, but dis girl had t' save y'? Pathetic."

"Ah'm tougher than Ah look, little man." She crossed her arms.

"_Oui_, I'm sure y' are." _Tante_ Mattie nodded appreciatively. "Come in, I've got a gumbo on. Dey say dat I make de best gumbo in Louisana."

"Ah should be going." Rogue frowned, pulling back.

"Don' be silly! We've got t' t'ank y' f'r savin' Remy and puttin' up wit' his antics somehow." Henri rolled his eyes.

"No, Ah-"

"Rogue- right?- y' got t' come! We don' let favors go unpaid." Emil took one of her arms gently, which she jerked back.

"Ah-"

"Merci!" Henri called to this pretty wife as she walked out. "Help us convince dis Rogue girl t' stay f'r dinner! She saved Remy from Julien."

"_Merci_." She smiled politely at the obviously uncomfortable girl. "Dey're right, y' have t' come in. Dere's no harm in lettin' us t'ank y' properly."

"Ah really should go." Rogue replied. "Y'all are really nice, but-"

"_Chere_, y' won' stay?" Remy made a face.

"Swamp Rat, Ah am _not _yer dear." She crossed her arms irritably.

"_S'il vous plait_, come!" Merci grinned. "I'm sure I'm not speakin' only f'r myself when I say we could use de civilized company. It's not every day we meet a _femme_ dat doesn' fall all over herself for our resident charmer."

"She is." Remy shrugged. "On de inside."

"No, Ah most certainly am not!"

"De gumbo's gettin' cold, time t' come in!" _Tante _Mattie started to shoo them in. "It's gettin' late. We'll have t' see 'bout gettin' y' a room so y're not travellin' de streets o' N'Awlins so late."

"But Ah'm not stayin'!" Rogue insisted.

"_Oui_, y' are. Merci, show Rogue de bathroom so she can freshen up and put her t'ings down." Their aunt grinned as the brunette resigned herself to her fate. "Dinner's in _cinq_ minutes, and if any o' y' are late…"

"_Oui_, _Tante_." Remy rolled his eyes as they walked inside.

… … … … … … … … … … … … …

"So where are we going?" Rhane asked as they walked. She had wondered more than once if they were just moving around in circles, in a semblance of moving somewhere. But Kurt looked so confident, so determined, that she couldn't entertain the thought for long. He surely knew where he was leading her, didn't he?

"If ve're lucky- America." The German grinned. "There is a professor zere running a school. It's for mutants. He supposedly accepts anyone. It's a start, right?"

A start. It was better than the redhead had hoped for a few days ago.

"How are we getting there?"

"First, we find an airport." Kurt replied. "Zen, I teleport us into ze back of a plane headed for New York."

She didn't ask anymore questions. They walked in easy silence. She was surprised by how unafraid she was of the person she had met three days ago. It was funny, to feel like he was her closest friend in the world when they hardly knew one another. Still, it couldn't hurt to be friendly.

"Why are you running?"

"I vas raised by very nice people." He told her with a faint smile. "But not everyone is as accepting as my parents, _ja_? I vas vorking in the circus, and eventually someone in ze crowd realized I vas not vearing makeup or a costume."

"What happened?" She whispered at the pause, almost afraid to find out.

"Zey figured out vhat I vas. I barely managed to escape ze mob." He grinned weakly at her. "It is not ze first time. It vill be ze last. I am not allowing my parents to take risks just by knowing me, and I vill not return."

She didn't know what to say. She wondered if that was why he saved her. Her situation had been much like his; she had been chased down by an angry mob, nearly killed.

"Your parents?" She asked softly. "What were they like?"

"Like any good parent." He smiled fondly at the memory. "Zey loved me very much. Zey were very kind to me, and treated me as if I vere normal my entire life. Zey accepted me even zough I vas not zeir natural child. Zat is saying somezing isn't it?"

She supposed it was. She wondered, momentarily, what her real parents were like. If they would have loved her, despite her differences. If they would have led a mob to destroy her. Tears stung her eyes, surprising her. Where had that come from?

"Don't cry." He stopped, wrapping his arms around her. "Shh… Vhat's wrong?"

"I…" She started to cry now. What was wrong? Was she sad that the person she had tried to love as a father had tried to kill her? Was she wishing someone had loved her? Did she wish that her parents were alive? "I don't know."

"Sometimes," He said thoughtfully as he stroked her hair, "zat's okay."

They stood in peace as she sobbed on his shoulder, for no reason, for a thousand reasons.

… … … … … … … … … … … …

Wanda Maximoff knew subtlety was the only way she could get away with any of this.

Subtlety, however, had never exactly been her forte.

She glanced around. There was no one around. She needed to be stealthy. She also needed money to survive. With a quick flick of her hand, the ATM's door swung open. Casually, as if she belonged there, she used her powers to jerk free all the money within the thing. The wallet she had managed to snatch had paid for her new clothes and bag, but it wouldn't have been enough to live on.

This, however, might last a long while. She watched carefully as all the money placed itself within her bag, and then turned to the ATM.

She glanced at the camera above the ATM and hexed it. It exploded loudly, which she took as a cue to leave.

She hated to be so methodical, when all she really wanted was revenge. Revenge would be sweet. Her eyes narrowed as she strode down the street.

Her _father_ was the first she would destroy. He was the cause of everything. He would have to die, simply because the world wouldn't be bearable until he was gone. She _loathed_ him, and his pretension. He had the nerve to lock her up because she couldn't control the powers he forced on her.

_"I wish there were another way."_

His cold voice in her mind reminded her once more of why rage burned so fiercely.

Who else? Pietro. Her twin, the boy who didn't care enough to write her a fucking letter or come see her once. He had _sworn_ he would never leave her, when they were children. That he would always protect her and love her.

What changed? What had made her dispensable? Why did he just abandon her, with her father and everyone that had ever known her?

A street lamp light shattered nearby. She groaned softly, attempting to control her emotions.

Thinking of her family would only make her lose control.

But, God, she was angry. When she met with either one of the men in her family, she would make sure they didn't live to regret everything they had done to her.

… … … … … … … … … … … … …

Tabitha Smith threw yet another glowing yellow ball at the crumpling concrete wall. With a loud bang, it exploded. Another appeared in her hands, ready to be an outlet for whatever the hell she was feeling.

BANG!

Say your good byes.

How the fuck was she supposed to take that?

Tears stinging her eyes, she threw the bomb as hard as she could at the wall. She was in a deserted park, a crumpling place of the ghetto used more often for drug deals than carefree playing. Why wouldn't the damn thing just collapse? Everything else in the world was falling, falling, falling to bitter broken little pieces around her.

One little wall could just do the same.

She threw them in quick succession as the tears broke free from her eyes, as they slid down her cheeks and smeared her make up. Soft sobs became loud hiccupping hysterics, small bangs grew louder and louder, until the only sound was her hysterical sobbing as she doubled over.

It wasn't _fair_!

Perhaps to an outsider, someone not privy to the teenage girl's thoughts, might have mistaken her as a delusional drug addict. Her loud sobs sounded almost like angry screams. The insides of her arms were dark and bruised, dotted with dozens of needle pricks.

She had done _everything_ to make her mother live. _Every damn thing_. She had donated blood, given up a kidney for her, let them take part of her liver, all in the hopes that she _might_ save her mother's life. She was a match, it was perfect.

Say your goodbyes.

You can't say goodbye to the woman that taught you to braid your hair, to arrange a bouquet of flowers, to cook a dozen different deserts. You can't simply wish the woman who bought you pink dresses and took you to the mall farewell forever. You don't give up on your mother when she is dying.

She was only sixteen. It wasn't fair.

That wall wasn't coming down.

For a moment, she imagined it was her father. The doctors. Her teachers, the dumbass students. And she was angry. She kicked at it, shrieking. Her damn father, who said it was fine to stop dialysis, fine to take her off the breathing machine. The doctors, who said there was next to nothing left, anything else would kill her just as soon as the disease itself. Her teachers, the dumbass students, with their fake sympathy and secret gratitude that it wasn't them.

She shrieked and wailed, kicking and scratching at the wall. Fall, she pleaded with it, just fall and let me know everything is fucking falling apart so I can fall too! The wall, so decrepit and old, stood up against her attack.

After what felt like ages, she simply sat down on it. Tears that had never really stopped streaked down her face. Little scrapes oozed bloods, bruises that had yet to appear throbbed just slightly.

"Mind if I join you?"

The slight scuff of footsteps.

"Whatever."

"How're you doing?"

"Fan-fucking-tastic. Can't you tell?"

She sat in silence beside the doctor, who watched her with some unidentifiable emotion in his eyes. Why wasn't she surprised he had come to find her? She had taken off back at the hospital, shouted something about how they were all just giving up, and run. How had he known?

The answer was in her mind before the question; her wonderful father.

"If you don't say goodbye, you'll regret it for the rest of your life, Tabitha."

"It's Tabby." She corrected softly. "And I'm not ready to say goodbye. She's not going to die yet."

"She's not going to live."

"What do you know?" She stood up. "I've given up all kinds of things normal kids don't even think about to save her! And now you tell it's all in vain, that she's going to die no matter how much I try to give, that I can't do a thing!"

He stood in silence as she cried and ranted.

"And that bastard that tries to call himself her husband says it's okay! Of course he does, now he can marry that pretty little whore he's been fucking while she's been sick!" She wrapped her arms around herself. "None of you get it. None of you even give a crap about me, or her. Once she's dead, you'll forget all about us and move on to the next patient, and when they die, you'll forget them too."

"That's not true."

"Might as well be."

There was only silence as she stared at the wall that refused to fall. She wasn't ready to say goodbye to her mother. Her mother, who loved her and tried her hardest to make Tabby happy, even when she was without food or water. Her mother, who had grinned when she discovered she was a mutant, and decided it would only make it easier for her daughter to get into trouble. Her mother, who protected her from her prick of a father and whatever other horrors the ghetto supposedly had.

There were no words for _goodbye_ to that woman.

She had done everything she could. She even stole money for her father, foolishly believing it would go towards her mother's treatment and not towards his blonde tart.

It just… hadn't been enough.

"Do you want me to take you back?" The kind doctor asked softly, now that she was calmer. "No one's with her now. You can say goodbye."

"Okay." She said meekly.

As she followed him to his car, she never noticed the little concrete wall finally collapse to the ground.

… … … … … … … … … … …. …. … …

It had been nearly a month since the Sentinel had come to the school. Nearly a month since they showed up at the Daniels household, nearly a month since they quit attending school.

A month was not long enough to erase her fears, Jean decided. It wasn't long enough to keep her from jumping at every loud noise, to keep her from peeking out the window before walking outside.

All the same, within that month, things had become more relaxed. Evan had grown close to both Scott and herself. Ororo seemed right at home, fitting in easily with these surroundings.

Sometimes, Jean wondered if it was too good to be true.

"Yo, Jean, movies?" Evan raised an eyebrow. "That new Batman movie came out. It looks pretty good."

"Sure." She shook herself from her thoughts, happy to be able to do a _normal_ activity. "Scott, are you coming?"

"I'm staying here to work with Logan." He grimaced slightly. "Thanks though."

Jean grinned at him apologetically before leaving with Evan. About three hours later, the two teens were walking down the street.

"Man, that was so cool!" Evan punched a fist in the air. "The Joker owned!"

"Rooting for the villain?" Jean laughed.

"Did you watch the same movie as me?" He asked dramatically. "I'm pretty sure the Joker was the best part of it."

"He was smart." She conceded with a grin.

"More than smart! A freaking genius!" He insisted. She shook her head, laughing at the younger boy's antics.

The carefree moment was interrupted by a horrible metallic crunch.

Jean stood perfectly still, a familiar fear flooding her senses. No! They had escaped, left the Institute and the danger behind.

"What was that?" Evan asked casually, unaware of the petrifying fear controlling the girl beside him.

"Mutant detected." The familiar, droning voice echoed in the relatively empty street. She looked at Evan.

"That's a Sentinel." They both turned and saw the enormous, looming machine. This time, it seemed to give no warning. A laser blasted the ground in front of them. Jean glanced at Evan.

"Run back and get the others!" She shouted. "I'll try to stay here and keep it away from your house."

"I'm not leaving you to fight this thing alone!" He insisted.

"You're useless, it's not after you!" She replied. "Now go!"

He paused, undecided, when another gun opened on the robot. It shot a mass of green goop, which both teens leapt away from.

"Evan, go!" Jean shouted over the metallic bangs of the Sentinel's attacks. "I can handle it for a few minutes!"

He turned and began to sprint. Surprisingly, the Sentinel made as if to follow.

"Evan, watch out!" She shouted. A blast from the Sentinel singed the ground where he had stood just seconds before.

"Why is it chasing me?" He was obviously confused.

"I don't know. Just run!" She followed him now with the realization that she couldn't distract it until help arrived. The two teenagers hurried over the sidewalk. Jean breathed in, trying to focus on the sound of her feet slapping the ground, of her heavy breathing, and not the frightening noises just behind her.

"Auntie O!" Evan shouted as they charged into the house.

"Scott! Professor!" Jean cried out simultaneously.

"Jean?" Scott looked alarmed at the obvious panic on his friend's face. "Are you okay?"

"No- there's a Sentinel, and it's following us, and-" Whatever else she was going to say was cut off by a sickening crunch as the Sentinel blasted away the front wall of the house.

"Shit." Logan cursed under his breath as they all stared at the large machine.

The enormous robot lumbered over them, a frightening glow growing brighter in its guns. Scott wasted no time; he pulled his glasses back from his face, shooting a red beam at the machine. It faltered, taking a booming step back as it regained balance, and then stood tall once more.

Evan stood, eyes wide, hardly able to believe his eyes.

A gust of wind plowed into the machine, knocking it back several feet. The gust quickly swirled into a small twister, spinning around the Sentinel. Storm, her eyes glowing an ominous white, lifted into the air. A crack of lightning joined the many noises as the bolt smashed into the robot.

Scott took this opportunity to hit it with continuous blasts, while Jean shoved it back with telekinesis.

Evan jerked away instinctively. Fear clouded his senses; how could this be happening? His house was under siege from a giant robot, and he was totally helpless as a group of mutants fought it.

A strange pain began to spread over his skin.

For a moment, he considered shouting out.

And then, it was gone.

"Woah!" Jean cried out, ducking as a small group of what looked like brown spikes shot past her. She turned back to see Evan, looking slightly green, standing unsteadily with holes through his shirt. "Well, this is an interesting development."

"Stay back, kid." Logan instructed the flustered teen. "You don't have the training we do."

He could stay back, no problem. He stared in bewilderment at his ruined shirt; he couldn't have shot those spikes from his body! Could he have?

Before he could contemplate this any further, a familiar blob of green goop smashed into him, hardening around his form.


	4. Excuses

**I'm super sorry for the long wait for an update!! I've been so busy with school starting again and such things. I have another chapter written, waiting to be edited, that should be up in the next couple of days and another started. I hope you enjoy it as the plot actually moves along! **

**Chapter Four : Excuses**

"Comrade-"

"Commies used ta call each other that, mate." The pyromaniac observed idly, leaning against one of the dozens of wooden boxes. His flaming red hair blended into the ridiculous uniform he chose to wear. It was a bright orange affair, almost painful to look at. Behind the orange-tinted glasses, blue eyes twinkled in amusement. "And ya happen to be Russian."

"That's a bit racist."

"It was a joke, mate." The Aussie rolled his eyes, messing with the nozzle of his flamethrower.

"Da." The Russian didn't look very amused. St. John wasn't surprised; he was never amused. The hulking man seemed bitter about something (though he would never say a thing about it), and always seemed eager to finish whatever job they were doing so he could go home and sulk. At times, it could be downright annoying.

"What did ya want?"

"I was going to tell you that our target is approaching." The Russian smirked slightly.

_Now_ he chose to have a sense of humor?

"Great." St. John grit his teeth and gave the trigger to his flamethrower an experimental squeeze. He grinned to himself at the little flame that burst free of its nozzle. Beside him, Colossus armored up. The man, made of solid metal now, cracked his knuckles menacingly.

He needed to remember to stay on this guy's good side.

Around the corner, a well-dressed man paused to brush something from his rather expensive suit. It had been one of those days. Too many damned senators still worried about violating the rights of those abominations; the man snorted to himself. As if that mattered at all. The American people had spoken, and they clearly wanted- no, needed!- something to be done about the menace roaming the streets. He glanced around, irritated. Any of these people could be mutants, lurking behind a normal façade, just waiting to jump out and destroy everything good about this nation.

God, that Registration Act needed to pass.

As he rounded the corner, he was confronted by the very abnormal sight of a huge, hulking man of metal and a fiery haired man manipulating fire. Like any man in his position with any common sense, he turned on his heel and fled. Before he could get more than a few feet, a wall of fire roared to life in front of him.

"Goin' somewhere, Senator Kelly?" The redhead smirked at the panicked man.

"This is why scum like you should be eliminated." The senator murmured, as if to himself. Colossus restrained the other mutant before he could do the senator any harm.

"You mutants think we're defenseless, just because we don't have your powers?" Kelly snarled, his fear of the two men in front of him fueling his actions. He pulled out a gun. "I'd be a fool to travel without this."

"You're a fool either way." Pyro rolled his eyes, and laughed. It sent chills down the senator's back; it sounded like the cackle of a madman. "How's a li'l gun gonna stop me or my mate?"

Perhaps it would have been prudent for the two mutants to look about them. Had they, they might have seen the news camera preparing to record the remainder of the exchange. While it is doubtful this could have stopped the events that followed, perhaps then they could have looked back and, with a certainty that would later be denied to them, claim that that was the moment everything went to hell.

"Now, we don't hafta hurt ya." Pyro said as reasonably as one could while threatening another man. "If ya come with us quietly, we won't touch one head on your yuppy little head."

"I'm not cooperating with the likes of you." Kelly sneered.

"If you do not come with us," Colossus said softly, cracking his knuckles once more. Kelly gulped. "We will use force."

"I'm right, then!" He snarled. "You'll use your powers to force normal, hard-working people to bow to your will!"

"Who says we aren't normal, hard-working people?" Pyro cackled again.

"It's your decision, Senator." Colossus said solemnly.

Rather than answering, the senator chose (rather unwisely) to open fire on the two mutants.

"Fuck!" Pyro cursed as a bullet lodged itself in his arm. He released the firewall, clenching the bloody spot angrily.

The bullets bounced off Colossus, ricocheting in all directions.

Had the cameras recorded the entire exchange, the following events would have perhaps been more peaceful, perhaps lead to more understanding. Instead, all Senator Kelly's normal, hard-working people watched in horror as the fire wall vanished and a bullet seemingly shot from the tin man into the senator's chest, effectively ending his life.

… … … … … … …

"A war is brewing." A faint dripping echoed in the watery tunnels. The woman crossed her arms, looking angrily out at the disgusting water. Her short, black hair was uneven. The eyepatch she wore had an almost ratty look to it. Disfiguring scars sculpted her face.

"That much is obvious." A tall, wallow man spoke softly. His skin was nearly translucent in the reflecting light, and his yellow eyes flashed when he looked up. "Caliban does not like this."

"Neither do I." The woman nodded.

"What can we do about it?" A black girl frowned, clenching her fists in frustration. "Nothing. We're stuck down here, while top-siders ruin everything!"

"Cybelle, this is hardly a time for bitterness." The first woman scolded her softly. "We need a plan."

"A plan?" Cybelle scoffed. "The Tunnelers already move to fight us if we try to defend ourselves. We have enough problems without a war breaking out topside."

"We can't control those things." Callisto's voice was harsh and loud. "We cannot control little spin-off groups, we cannot control the senators and presidents topside. We just have to be prepared."

"Callisto is right." Caliban agreed. "A plan would be best."

"So we sit and plan while mutants die." Cybelle crossed her arms, eyes downcast.

"Yes. We sit and plan and we will save lives." Callisto left no room for argument as she stood up. Cybelle glanced at Caliban, whom followed the leader's suit.

"Fine." She stood as well. "But I still think we should do something."

"We will."

… … … … … …

Kitty Pryde hurried through the halls of the school. Had people always stared at her this way? Watched her every move, with eyes like those of a hawk? She drew in one careful breath after another, trying desperately to calm her silly nerves. It wasn't as if anyone could possibly know what had happened. There was absolutely no way that a soul outside of her immediate family knew why she had been absent the previous day.

Paranoia. That's all it was, a little paranoia for the secret she was desperate to keep that way.

She looked up and her eyes locked with those of a tall, lanky boy. He was staring at her around the corner, brown eyes alight with something. His hair was brown, shaggy almost. He wore a pair of ratty jeans and a dirty white T-shirt. Eyes wide, mouth agape in horror, she ducked her head so quickly her ponytail nearly whipped her across the face.

He didn't know, he didn't know, he didn't know, he didn't know…

She tried to focus on putting her books away, not on the strange boy watching her.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her back and slammed into the back of her locker.

"Ouch!" She groaned.

"World closing in on you, Kitty?" Amy's voice taunted her from outside.

"Let me out!" She pounded on the door. "Hey!" She heard two girls' laughter as their footsteps faded. Had it been someone else- anyone else, really, it didn't matter who- she would have panicked, assumed that he or she had somehow found out her secret. But Amy and Riley were constantly tormenting her. "Let me out! Please, can anyone hear me?"

As she pounded against the locker, she let out a shriek of frustration- and fell through the locker.

"No…" She whimpered, trying to hold back tears.

"Are you okay?" It was the boy from before, bending next to her.

"Who are you?" She snapped, trying to regain her composure.

"Lance Alvers." He paused. "That was kinda cool."

"I don't, like, know what you're talking about!"

"You fell through the locker." He stared at her. A moment later, realization dawned on his face. "Wait! You're a mutant?"

"No!" She shook her head vehemently. "No, no, I'm not!"

"It's okay." Lance looked at the nearly hysterical girl. "I'm one, too, you know."

"W-What?" She looked up at him.

"Yeah." He laughed casually, as if he hadn't just confessed some big secret. As if he hadn't confessed to what, up until this point, she had considered the worst possible fate in the world. "I create earthquakes."

She stared at him in disbelief.

"You're, like, so casual about it."

"It's who I am."

"I'm Kitty." She offered him a watery smile.

He took her hands in his own and gently pulled her to her feet.

"I like that name."

It probably wasn't a good time, but Kitty found herself blushing. All from a few pretty words out of some boy's mouth. She peeked at him from the corner of her eyes; he was actually pretty attractive. His shaggy hair was more unkempt than shaggy, practically begging to be brushed out of his eyes. his eyes- so sensitive, so understanding...

"See something you like?" Lance teased, raising an eyebrow and giving her a crooked grin. Rather than replying, she lightly punched his arm and kept walking.

… … … … … … …

It was a normal day in the Guthrie household. Well, as normal as it could get. Sam held back an irritated sigh as he turned up the TV so he could hear the news over the noise around him.

"-_dead. We have the footage, but viewer discretion is advised. The material is very disturbing._" Sam watched first in curiosity and then in horror as bullets burst from the tin man's stomach and killed the senator. "_Senator Robert Kelly will be missed. He is remembered for advocating many mutant control policies._"

Sam turned up the volume, unable to believe what he had seen and heard. Senator Kelly, gunned down by mutants? It was understandable, sure, but didn't they realize what they would be doing if they killed him? This could start a full-out war.

"_Thanks, Tom._" The falsely cheery woman on the screen smiled. "_And, now, the president's speech on the matter._"

It cut to a crowded news conference, where the president stood. He seemed upset.

"_Senator Kelly's death is a loss felt throughout the government and the country. I understand that many of you are frightened. If anything, this incident has proven that Senator Kelly had some very good ideas for this country and we will do our best to continue them._" The president paused for the loud applause. "_The Sentinels developed by Bolivar Trask will be employed to locate and capture criminal and terrorist mutants. As some of you may know, a Mutant Registration Act sits on my desk, awaiting my signature or veto. In the current light, it will be effective immediately. Such a law will legally require all mutants to register with the government. _"

"Shit!" He cursed loudly. Register, so that they could be tracked down and killed or experimented on later. This couldn't be happening!

"Language, Sam." His mother said sharply.

He ignored her, intent on the television.

"_Facilities will be created to hold and study those mutants that refuse to comply with the new laws.. The nation's top scientists will be working on a way to suppress powers, perhaps permanently._" Loud applause followed these statements. "_This is a trying time in our history, my fellow Americans. We will overcome these trials, and we will come through this together. Senator Kelly's death will not have been in vain, and I will not allow mutants to destroy our country!_"

"Sammy?" Paige looked at him. He didn't look at her. How did his family not understand that this was the beginning of everything he had ever dreaded? It was a thousand times more likely that he would end up in some lab than that he would graduate.

"_Well, there you have it._" The falsely cheery woman was on the screen once more. "_This is Aimee, with News 9._"

It cut to a commercial.

"Fuck." Sam groaned, leaning back. He rubbed his temple as his mother again admonished him for his language.

"What's wrong?" Paige demanded. It fell silent, each of his siblings regarding him with a strange curiosity. Their soft-spoken brother never cursed, never raised his voice.

"Senator Kelly's dead." He said softly.

"Good riddance." His father snorted.

"He was killed by mutants." Sam murmured. "Ya don't have to guess what's coming now."

That strange silence fell over the room. Sam stared resolutely at the ceiling. What did they see, now, when they looked at him? A man destined for execution? Perhaps they, like he, saw him alone in a lab, frightened, tortured. What could the future hold for him now? He would have to register with the government, or end up in a lab. Either way, it was no life he wanted.

"It's gonna be okay." His mother's voice broke the silence. He nearly laughed; her shaky, near tearful voice had calmed no one.

"Ma, Ah have two choices." He said carefully, deliberately. "Ah can register with the government. Chances are, it'll make me a leper in the community. And in the end, when the government gets even stricter, Ah'll end up exactly where they want me." He didn't have to remind them that he would end up alone in a lab.

"What's the other choice?" His father looked fierce as he spoke.

"Ah don' register. They hunt me down with a Sentinel. Ah end up in a lab." Sam replied bleakly, running a panicked hand through his hair. This couldn't be happening.

The room stayed silent.

"Sorry to worry y'all." He stood up. "Ah'm headin' to school."

"Are ya sure that's a good idea?" His mother asked fretfully. "Maybe it'd be best if ya stayed home today."

"Ma, it'll be fine." He rolled his eyes. "They ain't gonna hunt me down today."

With that, he left to grab his bag.

"See y'all later!" He called over his shoulder, hurrying out of the suddenly cramped house. As he walked toward the school, he tried not to think about what his family was talking about. Him, no doubt. What to do.

He cursed under his breath once more. A strange feeling clouded his senses; a panicked fear, maybe. He didn't want to think about it. Funny, wasn't it? How a few words said by one man could strike panic into his heart? Never before had the world seemed such a lonely, such a desolate place. His family couldn't understand. They were all normal, delightfully normal. He could confide in no one.

He wondered if others like him were feeling this same way. Some of the loneliness ebbed away; for the first time in three years, he felt truly connected to another human being. Funny, that he should feel this connection to people he had never met, never known.

All that connected them was a gene, one little mutation.

Maybe it was enough.

… … … … … …

Pietro Maximoff was actually amused. This was a little redundant; he almost wished for a bigger threat.

He thought of the actual members of Friends of Humanity, and decided he didn't need any bigger challenge. He could just enjoy this.

"C'mon, mutie, scared?"

"Is this the part where I panic and you lynch me?" He leaned against the wall. The three football players exchanged confused glances; he was so calm. "Please. You can hardly catch a football."

"I'll show you, you little freak!" One of them lunged at him. He behind him a millisecond later.

"Good lunge, but terrible follow through." He commented casually, and zipped just out of reach.

"Hold still, you hyperactive freak!" A different jock leapt at him, and he easily dodged it.

"Can you please a bit more original in your insults? This is getting redundant." He sneered, and sped around them quickly. All three were lifted just off the ground before he stopped, a taunting grin on his face. "What? C'mon, you wanna be FoH fanatics, try to hit me!"

"Scum!" The third tried to grab him, and he once more moved out of the way.

"Not very original, but at least you're past freak and mutie." Pietro snickered, perched on top of a box in the alleyway. How had this all started again? They had tried to jump him as he passed the alley. At first, he was admittedly nervous. He hadn't known who it was; a true Friend of Humanity? When he had discovered their identities, it had become a fun game.

"Perhaps you'd be better off trying to catch a puppy to practice on." He observed conversationally. "Maybe you could catch him."

This time, the three leapt at him at once. In a flash, he was in front of them once more, pulling money from three very familiar wallets.

"Then again, maybe not. Thanks!" He tossed their wallets to the ground, pocketing the cash and credit cards. They exchanged a dumbfounded look.

"Did you just steal from us?" The shortest demanded angrily.

"No." He laughed, high and loud. "I like to think that's just the money I would win in a lawsuit I would file for discrimination."

"You wouldn't win. You're a mutant, no one cares!" The second jock growled.

"You're right." Pietro nodded sagely. "That's why I just took it myself. Seems the only way to turn things to my advantage these days, you know?"

"Shouldn't you be in a lab somewhere?" The first, and the obvious ringleader, taunted.

"Wow, I've never heard that one before." He drawled casually. "Shouldn't you be with your boyfriend?"

"I'm not gay!"

"Really?" Pietro zoomed to his side, examining him closely. "Wow, you could've fooled me. I usually have such a good gaydar."

"Mutie scum!" The second managed to lock an arm around him while he examined the first.

"Really creative, this bunch." Pietro sighed as if to himself, and spun so the teenager holding him received the punches meant for him. The sudden pain made the jock release him, and he ran out of reach, laughing. He could wait to tell Freddy and Toad about this; they'd definitely get a kick out of it.

"They may not be, but I am." The feminine voice was familiar, frighteningly so. A strange blue light overtook his body, holding him in place. The jocks began to advance on him, grinning. "No! He's mine."

"Why should we listen to you, mutie?" One of them snapped. A hex of blue light sent him flying down the road.

"Any other problems?" The voice was guttural and angry. The other two exchanged a frightened glance, and took off at a run. Pietro swallowed as he felt his body being spun around to face her.

"And, now, for you. Pietro." Her blue eyes were hard and angry. Her hair was long, ratty, uncut. She wore a pair of jeans that had obviously been purchased in a thrift store, with a black hoodie. And, all he could say as he stared into the eyes of the one person he'd tried hardest to forget about was one word.

"Wanda."

… … … … … …

"That was-"

"Uncomfortable? _Ja_, I agree." The blue mutant rubbed a kink in his shoulder. "Next time I vote ve fly coach."

"I was going to say weird. But uncomfortable describes it, too." Rhane giggled at the fuzzy mutant's antics.

The two European mutants were wandering around New York, hopelessly lost. After sneaking onto a plane headed to London, and switching to one headed to New York, they had found themselves without a plan. Despite having heard of this school for mutants, Kurt had no idea where it was. Rhane was still happy enough to follow him, having nothing better to do herself.

Already, he seemed like a protective older brother.

"Ve need somewhere to stay for ze night." Kurt murmured, as if to himself. "Not a hotel. But ve can't stay on ze streets, you are a young girl…"

"I don't mind." Rhane offered.

"Have you _heard_ what zey do to little girls in zis place?" He made a face. "_Nein_, ve vill find some place."

She couldn't help but laugh. The duo continued to wander around the streets, searching for some place to stay. She glanced at her blue, fuzzy friend. He wore a dark, long trenchcoat, and tucked his hands into his pockets. A hat, and a downcast look, and he almost passed for human.

"How will find the school?" Rhane asked softly after some time had passed. "It could be anywhere."

"Vell, _liebchen_, I vas zinking ve look for it." Kurt snickered at her annoyed expression.

"But where do we start?"

He shrugged.

"Ve'll figure somezing out, _ja_?"

"Are you always so optimistic?" She held in a sigh.

"It's much more pleasant zan pessimism, you know." He nodded sagely. "Come now, you cannot tell me you don't hope."

"Hope and optimism are two different things." The younger girl pointed out with a helpless smile. "I can hope and still be realistic."

"Optimism and realism go hand in hand." Kurt countered. "I am simply looking at the most pleasant possibilities."

"I'm stuck with you, crazy optimist or not."

"And I vith you, negative pessimist or not." He laughed heartily. "Now, let's find us a place to sleep, _ja_?"

… … … … … …

This was it.

A sharp intake of breath, tears brimming over her eyes, and the long, steady beep of a machine.

Well.

It was over now.

She watched her mother- no, the body now- with a strange feeling of detachment. The pale, gaunt blonde woman looked almost like a stranger. She wiped away tears, foolish tears, as she gathered her stuff to go. Her mother would have wanted her to get away, to keep away from her father and his tramp at the very least.

She left the hospital. Blinking away tears that seemed desperate to come no matter what she did, she glanced at her watch. She could make it to chemistry. Blow something up. The idea didn't appeal to her.

Still, she thought of her mother. Her mother, sacrificing her health by giving what little money she made to get Tabitha school supplies and lunches for school. Her mother, giving away all her wages because her father was too busy gambling.

She would go to school, then.

She walked to the school, melancholy. She briefly wondered if the tears still streaking down her face would have dried by then.

The classroom immediately grew quiet as she entered the room. She glanced around, as if daring any of them to say one word, working her way to her seat.

"You're late, Ms. Smith." She glanced up at Mr. McCoy, who grinned pleasantly at her.

"It's been a long day." She croaked.

"As I can see. Why don't we go talk in the hall for a minute?"

Seeing no way to avoid this discussion, she turned around and left the room. She leaned against the wall, trying to breathe, trying to hold back recently contained tears.

"Are you alright, Tabitha?" Mr. McCoy shut the door behind him, hiding them from the curious eyes of students.

"No." She shook her head. "Not really."

"Would I be overstepping my boundaries to ask what is troubling you?" He offered her a friendly smile once more. She tried to return it, but it came out as some form of a grimace.

"My mom just died. I came here from the hospital." Saying the words brought a new wave of grief, a new wave of pain. Tears spilled free of her eyes, slipping effortlessly down her salty cheeks. Did saying the words make them any more true? What a silly thought; dead was dead. There were no degrees of death.

"I'm very sorry for your loss. Perhaps you would do well to stay home for the rest of the day." Mr. McCoy frowned, now, as if he were actually concerned for her.

"She'd want me here." Tabitha insisted, trying to wipe away the tears. "Besides, what is there at home? Some pretty little tramp? Maybe some gambling winnings that'll just be lost by tonight? No, I'll stay here, thanks."

"Perhaps, then, you could stay with me today. I can give you a pass to excuse you from your other classes. You can help me in the gym class."

"Why are _you_ being nice to me?" She snapped, glaring at him through the endless tears. "I'm a terrible student."

"You are going through a rough patch, and I'm willing to help." He laughed now, a deep, rich sound. "Not every teacher is a soulless monster, you know."

"You're really not funny." She observed dryly.

"Well, the best we can do is try." He smiled at her. "Don't tell me you don't want the chance to make fun of freshman running around the gym?"

"When you put it that way, how can I refuse?" She gave him a watery grin that didn't reach her eyes.

* * *


	5. Forever

**Chapter Five : Forever**

"'S too bad dis can't last f'rever, ain't it?"

"Why's that?"

She was settled comfortably against his chest, his fingers entwined in her hair. The warm, muggy air of Louisiana hung damply around them. The soft buzz of mosquitoes and the soft lapping of water in the nearby swamp filled the air. The sun, setting in the west, sent of rays of orange and pink streaking across the darkening sky. Her full lips were parted in a relaxed smile, one of the few she allowed around him.

"Dis is perfect, _chere_." He whispered.

She shifted, the way she always did when he made her uncomfortable. She was so resistant to him, to his charms (even when he wasn't trying to charm her). Of course, he thought ruefully with a glance to her long sleeves in the muggy weather, he understood that better now than he had in the beginning.

"No, it's not." She replied softly. She clenched her teeth, for just a moment, and he frowned.

"Carol?"

"Who else?"

"Tell de _fille_ t' calm down."

"She doesn' like to listen to me." Rogue laughed.

Sometimes, he wondered if he was the first one she'd really let past the strong defenses she had built around herself. Something in the nervous way she would share things, even things that hardly mattered, told him he might be right. She didn't open up too much; he still had little to no idea of where she had come from. Or, in reality why she had left; she obviously could handle Carol Danvers much better than she claimed. She refused to reveal her real name, choosing instead to just give him that knowing little smirk whenever he dared ask.

All the same, he felt a strange sort of kinship with the girl.

A longing, almost.

Which was bad, considering he was _supposed_ to get married in a few weeks, as Rogue knew.

"Shouldn't ya be with Bella, helpin' her plan the wedding?" She wrinkled her nose in distaste; the girls had formed an intense dislike almost at the moment they'd met. In the previous four months (four long, treacherous months for mutants, and yet somehow some of the happiest months of his life), he had been in countless fights with Bella over the young girl leaning against him now. He spent too much time with her, he obviously lusted after her, why couldn't he just think about something other than that "skunk-haired bitch" for two seconds, didn't he care that _they _were getting married at all?

"_Peut-etre_." He frowned. "But why would Remy want t' do dat, _hahn_?"

"She is yer fiancé." Rogue pointed out with a smirk. "If ya can't stand her, don't marry her."

"As much as Remy'd like dat- and y' most certainly didn' hear dat- _c'est impossible_." He shrugged his shoulder in defeat, still running his gentle fingers through her hair. "De guilds arranged dis. T' call it off is t' call a war 'tween dem."

"Yer sacrificin' yer happiness for yer family?" She shifted so that she could look at him, the strangest expression in place.

"_Ouais_." He nodded. "Wouldn' y'?"

"No." She said softly, pulling away from him. Her soft hair fell limply from his fingers as she shifted to sit beside him. "Ah didn't when Ah had the chance."

And in her mind, Carol railed against her, reminding her again and again that she had been all too happy to sacrifice something far more precious for her family.

"Shut up." She mumbled, rubbing her temple. The irate mutant girl, her entire being trapped within the confines of Rogue's fragile mind, paid her no mind. The same could not be said for the mutant beside her.

"_Chere_, y' need t' get dat girl under control." Remy looked at her. "Carol, leave her alone."

'Fat chance.' The blonde girl snorted.

"C'mon, Rem." Rogue stood up, stretching casually. "Let's go blow off Bella."

"T'ought dat was what we were doin'." He stared at her curiously.

"Yeah, we are. But Ah'm hungry, and Ah want jambalaya from that restaurant." She gave him a look that told him not to argue. "Are ya coming?"

"Remy never gets a choice." He sighed dramatically as he stood to follow her.

Fifteen minutes later, they sat outside at a table, waiting for Rogue's jambalaya and his bourbon. The sky was a deep navy, with a smudge of orange and pink on the far western horizon. Stars were beginning to peek out from the darkness.

"Ah don't understand why yer willin' to make yerself miserable." She said conversationally, as if the subject hardly mattered at all. He glanced at her, surprised by the frank comment.

"Nice t' see y' bein' more forward, _chere_."

"Don't call me that. Yer engaged."

"Dat's not fair! Remy calls everyone some kind o' endearment." He pouted for moment. She rolled her eyes at him, and crossed her arms.

"Stop avoidin' the subject, Swamp Rat."

"Are y' gonna make Remy, River Rat?" He sneered back at her, and she laughed quietly.

"Ya think Ah can't?"

With the threat hanging in the air, he tossed her an irritated glance.

"Y' jus' don' give up, do y'?"

"No, Ah don't."

"It's fer de better o' de guild." Remy shrugged. "Remy doesn't dislike her. He jus' don' love her."

"Why settle, then? Just 'cause yer family says ya should?" She raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't seem very fair at all."

"Life ain't fair, _chere_." He ran a hand through his hair, giving her his most devastating grin. "Surely y've figured dat out by now." She bristled at the comment, shooting a dark glare his way.

In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have phrased it quite that way. After all, both found themselves frightened and horrified by the progression of anti-mutant legislation in government over the last four months. Neither had registered.

"Even more reason for yer family to stand by ya and let ya make yer own decisions." She replied stoutly.

"Sounds almos' like y' got a personal problem wit' de matter." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, which earned him a "light" punch in the arm. He rubbed the spot gingerly. "Y're so mean t' dis _pauvre_ Cajun."

"Suck it up." She replied with a superior grin.

"Dat's not nice."

"Rub some dirt in it, Cajun." The grin slowly curved into a smirk.

"Dat's de stupidest phrase Remy's ever heard." He rolled his eyes. "Rubbin' dirt in a wound'll only get it infected, y' know."

"That's why it's just a phrase." She shook her head in disbelief. "Dumbass."

"Y' are verbally abusive. Remy don' like it much." He pointed out.

"Ya choose to put up with me, ya know." She shrugged. "Ya should've guessed at this before ya took me in."

"Y' make me regret dat decision every day."

"Ah do not, and ya know it." She snorted as her food and his drink were brought to them. The warm, aromatic scent of the rice mixture was overpowering. "Mmm."

"_Oui_." He looked her up and down suggestively. "Mmm."

"Does everything _have_ to be an innuendo with ya?"

"_Chere_!" He put a shocked hand to his chest. "Y' must not know Remy at all t' ask dat question!"

"Ah shouldn't have bothered." She shook her head incredulously, turning to her food. While she began to eat, Remy pulled out a cigarette and placed it to his lips. Lighting it casually with his fingertip, he blew a ring of smoke in her general direction. "Swamp Rat!"

"What?" He asked innocently, one eyebrow cocked in supposed confusion.

"Ya know Ah hate that!"

"_Oui_." He agreed, blowing another ring of smoke her way.

"Ah swear!"

"Dat's not very threatenin', _chere_. Y' must be losin' y'r touch." He observed casually as she glared at him.

The flow of casual banter was interrupted by the sound of a gun cocking. Immediately, Remy's eyes searched the area for any known Assassin; despite the upcoming wedding, one could never trust them. What he found instead, however, was slightly more frightening.

"Don't move, mutants." A dark voice hissed. The man, flanked by several others, was dressed in black from head to toe. A ski mask hid the features of him and his following henchmen. Each had a gun pointed at the mutant duo.

"We don' mean any trouble, _monsieur_." Remy stood up, his hands raised in the universal sign of good intentions.

"I doubt that." Rogue stood as well at the man's words, her eyes narrowing.

"We have every right to sit here an' eat!" She snapped. "Just like ya!"

"I'm afraid that's where you're wrong." She could hear the smile in the man's voice. "Remy LeBeau is a notorious thief, using his powers to aid him in these illegal activities. And I would be willing to bet anything that you're an accomplice."

"Take us t' trial, den." Remy challenged. The other patrons of the restaurant began to hurriedly leave, as if they could not afford to be associated with the couple.

"I'm afraid that's not really necessary, in this case."

Rogue and Remy exchanged a swift glance; immediately, she wrenched the gun free of his hands and bent it with her stolen strength. At the same time, Remy sent a handful of charged cards at their assailants' feet. Immediately, the henchmen opened fire on the mutants.

A lifetime of avoiding assassination attempts from the opposing guild had taught Remy the skills to easily evade the bullets. Rogue, on the other hand, simply stood still as the metal glanced off her invulnerable skin. A knowing smirk in place, she held her ground until the guns were empty.

"Done yet?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Not quite." Her sixth sense warned her as the leader leapt to lock a collar around her neck. She ducked out of the way just in time, and delivered a hard kick to his gut. Immediately, the four or so other men were attacking the mutants as well.

SWISH!

His bo stick now drawn out, Remy LeBeau easily deflected their blows. He quickly jabbed one in the groin, watching in satisfaction as he sank to the ground. Rogue kept up with the trained fighters easily, calling on her interesting background as Mystique's daughter to defend herself.

Had she listened to her sixth sense just a moment sooner, the fate that befell both of them might have been avoided. However, just as the strange metal collar clicked into pace around her neck and a needle pierced her supposedly invulnerable skin, she could only curse herself as darkness overtook her.

… … … … … …

"I did not expect this."

"Isn't this what you've been warning me of for years and year, Magnus?"

The aging man glanced away, too ashamed to remind his old friend that he now went by Erik Lensherr.

"Charles, had I known that the senator would be so careless, I would never have-"

"Why do you feel the need to explain yourself to me?" Charles glanced up at him from the wheelchair. "You have made many mistakes, old friend. I begrudge you none of them."

"My goal was to make it safer for mutant-kind." The Master of Magnetism glanced at his old friend. "This war has been brewing for years. And, now, they have the excuse to finally start it."

"Your faith was misplaced." Charles allowed the smallest of smiles to grace his face. "They have started no war."

"Don't tell me your fondness for the human race has allowed you to blind yourself to their cruelties." His voice was hard. "Dozens of us are plucked from the streets, stolen away to a horrible death or a life of examination and torture. They force us to register ourselves with the government, like cattle. How long until we wear the yellow star on our shirts? How long until this modern day Auschwitz reveals itself for what it truly is?"

"That will _not_ happen, Magnus." His voice was hard. He folded his hands in his lap. "That was a different time and a different people."

"Are humans not still capable of fear and cruelty?" Erik replied, clenching his left fist as if the numbers tattooed on that arm burned at the thought. "Things are very much the same. We just happen to speak English, not German."

"What would you have me do, then?" Charles glanced at the other man. "No one is organized. No one is prepared for the horrors that you claim are to come."

"Join forces with me." Erik grinned at the immediate look of refusal that overtook his old friend's face. "Listen to me. This is not about mutant superiority. This is not about inciting a war. This is simply about survival. There is strength in numbers. Bolivar Trask's men have yet to discover the Brotherhood house, which has undergone some recent repairs."

"Had it been anyone but you, I would have wondered if this is a choice." He said with a wry smile.

"I will not force you."

"I know." He paused. "I must discuss it with Ororo and Logan. Surely you understand."

He nodded, a short, curt movement. "How is Miss Monroe since the loss of her nephew?"

"She is very… distraught. She blames herself." Charles admitted, not surprised in the least at the depth of Magneto's knowledge.

"I am sure we can save him."

"Let's hope so."

"So you accept, then?"

"I need to talk it over. But it is a possibility." Charles glanced at his friend. "Without your helmet, I can sense that your intentions are good. You mean what you say. You were rather smart to leave that ridiculous thing at home."

"I knew you would need to see proof of my offer."

"You know me well."

"Perhaps."

They glanced at one another.

"I'll be in touch."

"I don't doubt it."

And, with those parting word, the two men parted ways.

… … … … … …

As it turned out, there were some plans in effect long before the Morlocks ever had time to perfect their own. This much was made obvious as scores of men, dressed in black and loaded with professional grade weapons, descended into the sewers.

Had they had more warning, things might not have turned out so badly.

The din of echoing bullets woke Callisto. She immediately leapt to her feet, eye narrowed in anger. Had the Tunnelers gotten their hands on guns? Were they so stupid as to think they could stop their fellow mutants with a few bullets? She rushed out through the pipes.

A strange, green gas was filling the tunnels. She took a breath, and gagged. Her throat burned, as if set afire by the foul gas. Her hands clutched at her throat as the tunnels were filled with the shrieks and moans of the dying.

This was it then; no Tunneler had done this. The top-siders, _humans_, had done this. Had ended their lives. Tears streamed from her eye, burnt by the fumes. She struggled not to breathe, as her lungs burned and screamed for air.

She fell to the hard concrete with a harsh smack. Her vision was swimming, but she still found herself recoil in horror as her friends and followers followed suit. Torpid, that poor little girl, caught in the grips of death. Cybelle, clinging just barely to life, eyes wide open in horror. Façade, in a desperate attempt to stay alive, trying desperately to blend with the floor. The horrific images burned into her mind, burned into her being.

She pulled her shirt to cover her mouth and nose and breathed through the fabric. The air still burned her throat, and she was still teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

After what felt like an eternity of watching friends die, she allowed the darkness to swallow her.

What may have been hours and may have been minutes later, she awoke groggily to a foot nudging her side. A low moan escaped her throat before she could stop it.

"This one's still alive." A masculine voice mumbled. She gazed up blearily to see two men in gas masks observing her. She allowed her eyes to stray. Everywhere, there were bodies. The bodies of her comrades and friends. Tears burned in her eye.

"Do we finish it off?" The other asked, pulling his gun free. Yes, she wanted to moan, let me die with them! She could not find the strength.

"No. You heard Trask. He wants them to work with."

"Right." They bent down and jerked her up.

She moaned in protest; let her die there, with her friends. Pain shot down her limbs as they dragged her down the silent tunnels. After a few moments of seeing the bodies of Morlocks, she simply closed her eye and tried to believe she had died with them and this was Hell.

She groggily opened her eye as the two men prodded at her.

"Get up there." One of them snapped, pointing to the ladder. Wearily, angrily, she climbed up. She had no strength left for protest, only sorrow and fear.

She stumbled as they pushed her into the back of the dark black van, crashing against the wall.

"Callisto?" Ray Crisp's voice was incredulous.

"Tunneler." She hissed.

"I don't think they cared much about if we were Tunnelers or Morlocks." He said in a would-be lighthearted tone. As her eyes adjusted to the different sort of darkness within the van, she could have sworn she saw salty trails left by tears on his cheeks. "I'm the only one left, anyway."

Too exhausted and angry to answer, she turned away from him and settled into the floor as best she could.

"Something in that gas keeps us from using our powers for awhile." Ray continued to talk, as if her desperate want for silent mourning hardly mattered to him. To demonstrate his statement, he raised his hands. Nothing happened. "See?"

She didn't answer. A strange pain continued to sear in her chest, jumping with every dull beat of her heart. A pain of loss.

A little while later, the doors to the van opened once more. A familiar figure was thrust in.

"Caliban?"

"Yes." The mutant nodded. "Caliban is here."

Callisto felt the slightest bit better knowing he had survived.

The three mutants sat in a frightened silence for some time. Too exhausted and depressed to put up any sort of a fight, each of the prisoners faced the thought of the coming days with little hope.

… … … … … …

She surveyed the damage with growing irritation. Kicking a piece of rubble with unnecessary vehemence, her eyes darted across the destroyed lawn while she sniffed the air. His scent was gone.

Anger flooded her senses. He had escaped her.

She bent down and picked up a piece of destroyed drywall, crushing it in her hand. Her eyes narrowed.

She would find him. He couldn't hide from her for long.

With that thought driving her forward, X23 took one final look at the destroyed Xavier Institute, and turned on her heel to leave.

… … … … … …

He ducked around one corner, and then another, trying desperately to escape his pursuer. His speed was an advantage; he tore into the Brotherhood house, relieved for its proximity.

"Pietro?" Freddy looked at him curiously. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

Just after the words escaped his lips, a flash of blue light sent the door smashing into the wall. Pietro jumped, and ducked behind the couch.

"Pietro." A dark, feminine voice called out. The girl stepped into the house, her familiar blue eyes narrowed in distaste. "Oh, Pietro!" Her hair was unkempt. Her thin, pale arms were held in front of her, as if they were weapons. "Come out, come out…"

"Who are you?" Mystique appeared in the doorway, glaring at the young woman.

The girl ignored her entirely, focusing only on trying to find Pietro.

"Where is he?" She snarled suddenly, glaring at Freddy. Mutely, the huge mutant shrugged. "Don't protect that _traitor_."

"Wanda, calm down!" Pietro's voice squeaked as he peered out from behind the couch. "Just calm down, and we can talk!"

"I don't _want_ to talk!" She shrieked, and blue light danced at her fingertips. Before he could run, he was ensnared in it, unable to move. "You won't escape me this time, dearest brother."

"To be fair, you accidentally let me free last time." Pietro mumbled in a panic. It was true; something had distracted her just as she was about to hex him apart, and he had taken off in a run. Somehow, she had followed him.

"Let him go!" Toad leapt at her- Pietro was pleasantly surprised. He'd had no idea the disgusting amphibian liked him enough to try to help. He was shot back by a hex and slammed into the wall.

"This is between my brother and me." She said softly, her voice dangerously low. Her wild eyes fixed on him, as if seeing for the first time. "You left me there."

"I had no choice!" Pietro mumbled uselessly.

"You had every choice!" She shouted thunderously. Even Mystique seemed at a loss; what could be done about this angry girl, whose powers were obviously volatile? "I had no choice, Pietro, but you! What choice didn't you have, brother?"

"We were eight, Wanda, what was I supposed to do?" He squeaked at the outraged look on her face. "Look, I tried, I begged him-"

"Lot of good it did me, didn't it?" She asked softly. "It doesn't matter. After I'm done with you, I'll get to him."

"That might not be a very good idea-"

"That's funny. I don't recall asking you for your opinion on the matter." She sneered. Her voice, he noticed, was raspy and low. From disuse? He pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the slightly more important matter at hand. He had no doubt that Mystique would let this play out, curious to see what this young mutant could do and to understand what was happening.

He wisely chose to remain silent as his estranged sister surveyed him critically.

"What?" She demanded. "No desperate pleas? You are a coward, Pietro. I hardly expect you to face death so bravely."

"You won't kill me." He tried to grin at her. "You're not a murderer, Wanda."

"You don't know that." She muttered darkly. "You don't know anything! You were never there!"

"I couldn't be! I didn't know where it was!"

"That doesn't matter." She snapped, far too engulfed by her rage and desperation for revenge to be bothered by such trivial facts. "You left me."

"Father left you."

"And you're his favorite, his little minion and plaything!" She snarled. "His lap dog, you pathetic little worm! As long as _you_ stayed in his favor, it didn't matter what happened to me!"

"That's not how it was, Wanda!" Pietro shook his head. The blue light was unwavering, and he could find no way to break through it. He just had to keep her talking, not fighting, until it weakened.

"Liar." She whispered, branding the label on him with harsh jerk of her head. "You're nothing to me anymore. A liar, a pathetic traitor. They say there's a special circle in hell for _traitors_, Pietro. Are you ready to find out if it's true?"

"Enough." Mystique's commanding voice filled the room. "Maximoff, who is this?"

"She's-"

"I don't need you to speak for me, Pietro." She snarled. "I am more than capable, despite what you and Father believe." She looked Mystique in the eye. "I am Wanda Maximoff, the supposed twin sister of this traitor."

"Well," Mystique's eyes glinted, "this is an interesting development."


End file.
